


Clutch

by Decipher (Straggler)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because of course he does, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Loss, Coping with Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hank Anderson Swears, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Game, Post-Pacifist, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straggler/pseuds/Decipher
Summary: There are only three things that Hank likes about this world: Sumo, booze and his car even though it looks like shit but it sure as hell doesn't run like shit. The sound of the engine turning over and the rumble of it always makes something like pride bloom from within him but he also acknowledges that he's a wreck so the pride only lasts as long as it takes for him to reach for a bottle and then it gets replaced by shame and guilt and the difficulty of staying alive in a world that demands too much and not enough of him.(This one-shot was written with the assumption that Hank left the DPD and became a mechanic instead because he can't stomach the job of a police officer anymore. The revolution still happened, Connor is still the same, except instead of the end-credit scene of the two of them meeting up at Chicken Feed, we get an aimless android.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Clutch

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here's an attempt of trying to write a story in Hank's point of view. It's gonna be a fun mess! Also, I don't pretend to have a single clue about cars but I've got a mechanic friend which I tried very hard not to bug too much and the wonders of Google and Youtube on my side. Woop!

  
There are only three things that Hank likes about this world: Sumo, booze and his car even though it looks like shit but it sure as hell doesn't run like shit. The sound of the engine turning over and the rumble of it always makes something like pride bloom from within him but he also acknowledges that he's a wreck so the pride only lasts as long as it takes for him to reach for a bottle and then it gets replaced by shame and guilt and the difficulty of staying alive in a world that demands too much and not enough of him.

But cars are good and uncomplicated; either they're fixed or they're broken, and if they're broken they can be fixed and if they can't be fixed, well, they won't pass judgement for being turned into recycled scrap. Cars are straightforward and easy to understand.

Humans are not.

'That's not the price you told me before.'

'Lady, it's called an estimate; not a quote. You told me the AC was churning out heat even though it's at the lowest temperature setting so I figured it must've either been a problem with a leak in the seal or the AC needs a recharge or both. I estimated a price to cover the costs of repairing it but that was before I opened the hood and saw the mess that was your engine.'

'I won't let you cheat me out of my money.'

Hank rolls his eyes; it's too early to deal with this and he's too tired to bother. 'It's the truth. You can take it somewhere else and they'll tell you the exact same thing,' he says as he holds out the keys for her car which she snatches from him and immediately leaves. He doesn't care that he's letting money walk away, he's got better things to deal with than a lady that's too clueless to understand that cars need time and care as much as that stupid shaking chihuahua she's got cowering inside her purse.

'Fucking piece of work,' he grumbles to himself as he goes back to another car that needs his attention.

Being a mechanic is a messy job; at the end of the day he's always covered in grease and oil stains and smells a bit like rust but it's a cleaner job than when he'd worked as a Lieutenant at the DPD. He'd trade blood for grease any day, broken car parts over broken bodies.

'Hey, how's my girl?' A familiar voice calls out from the open garage door.

Hank straightens up and smudges more stains onto his hands from the dirty rag in his pocket. He turns to his long-time customer and smirks, 'She's fine; just replaced the radiator and did some belt realignment. No big deal.'

The middle-aged man with a comb-over whistles as he steps closer and looks down at the engine block, 'Damn, you even cleaned her up.'

'You don't treat her good enough. She deserves better than you,' Hank jeers as he closes the hood and gives it a final wipe with a slightly cleaner rag from his other pocket before he jerks his head to the office. 'I'll get the keys for ya.'

'Thanks, Hank. You know I don't trust her with anybody else.'

'That's because you're a cheap bastard, Will,' he says as he unhooks the keys from a nail pegged into the wall and tosses it over to the other. 

'It's because you don't got androids working for you. I don't want those junks touching anything of mine,' he scoffs as he pulls out his wallet and takes out a card.

Hank wisely doesn't say that it was probably those machines that helped build his car in the first place. Instead, he just accepts the card when it's handed over, running up the costs and giving a small customer loyalty discount for the other man. He prints out the job info and holds it out for them to keep, 'You take care of yourself, Will.'

'Thanks, Hank. You, too,' he says as he crumples the receipt into the pocket of his jacket and drives off with his car, the smooth rumbling sound of the engine giving him the feeling of a job done well.

He gets two more customers during the day, one is a lady old enough that she really shouldn't be driving manual cars anymore but he admires her tenacity and the fact that the vehicle had belonged to her late husband, and the other is a lanky smart aleck who thinks he knows more about cars than Hank himself.

'Your service sucks,' the guy complains after Hank refuses to humor him for the third time.

He doesn't roll his eyes, but he wants to, 'Kid, tell it to someone who cares.'

'I'll leave you a bad review!'

'You wouldn't be the first, and I don't give a shit. Take your car and go if you think you can fix her better yourself,' he growls as he throws the keys back to them, watching as they fumble even a simple catch before dropping it on the ground. Hank does roll his eyes this time as they complain all the way to the car, starts it up with an ear-splitting screech and then drive off, stalling once at the mouth of the garage before gunning it out of there, blaring the car horn the entire way.

'Fuck, kids these days,' he shakes his head and decides to close up shop for the day. It's only a little after 4PM but it's close enough and he's done enough and he's tired enough to deserve finishing up early. That's the joys of being self-employed; he gets to pick his own hours.

He puts his tools away neatly and cleans them as he goes, switching out the dirty rags for fresh ones to keep them as pristine as the day he got them. He might not care so much about himself but he makes sure to put effort into maintaining his equipment. They're his livelihood now; it wouldn't do to have them rust or break from negligence.

Sumo starts barking as soon as Hank is halfway up the stairs to the apartment above the garage and smiles when he hears nails scratching at the door, followed by pitiful whines. He opens the door and sees his dog waddle backwards and sit on his haunches, eager and patient for attention. Hank whistles sharply as he grabs the leash hanging behind the door and chuckles when Sumo bounds up to him and his whole body shakes in excitement at the prospect of a walk.

'Down, boy,' he huffs a little as he grabs onto the collar to properly clip on the leash then has to hold on tightly when the saint bernard immediately starts climbing down the stairs, pausing once to make sure Hank is following before continuing the rest of the way.

He lets the saint bernard lead the way, always seeming to take a new route every time they go for a walk, practically never the same way twice. Hank thinks his dog would make for quite a criminal if he wasn't so easily won over by pats and kibble.

They're just rounding the block and approaching back home when his dog's ears perk up, his jaw uncharacteristically snapping shut as he stops walking. Hank stops next to him and is about to tell him to get a move on when his human ears finally pick up on what got Sumo's attention; yelling.

It's happening right next to his garage and he swears harshly when the saint bernard starts running for it, yanking him along until they're right in the mouth of the alley next to his place. He sees two guys kicking at another figure on the ground behind the dumpster. All he can see is their feet scrambling on the ground as their two assailants beat the living crap out of them.

'Hey!' He shouts and Sumo immediately starts barking with him. The guys barely pay him any attention as they continue their assault.

Hank might be old and retired but he knows not many people are willing to go up against a growling hulk of a saint bernard when they're let loose so he lets go of the leash. 'Sic 'em!'

Sumo starts chasing after them, growling and barking, flecking slobber at his wake. The sight of a giant dog going for them scares the guys enough that they yell in fright and run off with their tails between their legs, skidding on the ground as they go from 0 to 100 in seconds. He laughs unkindly and hurries after the saint bernard, calling him back once he's sure the guys aren't going to make a return appearance.

His dog looks pleased as he toddles back to Hank, tongue lolling out and tail wagging. Hank huffs a little as he picks up the leash and runs a hand down Sumo's fur and pats him firmly on his ribs in reward. 'Good dog,' he tells him and turns his attention to the guy that was being walloped.

He sees the blue blood first, then the red LED blinking on its temple, and his good mood immediately disappears.

'Fuck,' he grumbles and watches as the android attempts to get up only to slip and wedge itself closer to the dumpster.

He's not that familiar with androids outside of the ones that he remembers being stationed inside the DPD but he thinks this one looks fancy. Or as fancy as it can be with its suit all torn up and covered in mud and gunk and blue blood. 

'Thank you for coming to my assistance,' the android tells him, its voice filled with static that grinds at Hank's ears. It annoys him suddenly.

'I didn't do it for you. Now get the fuck off my property,' he growls as he pulls his dog with him to get back to the garage, not looking behind him to make sure the android up and left. He figures it'd be gone soon if it knows what's good for it.

He unhooks the leash from Sumo and feeds him his kibble, throws him a treat along with it and gives him fresh water, listening as the dog laps it up as if he hasn't had a drop to drink for days.

Hank cleans himself up, eats an easy microwave meal and drinks his booze in front of the TV, listening to the news of androids protesting for their rights to live and to be free. He scoffs and rolls his eyes sardonically as he flips the channel until he hits a sports re-run. Sumo eventually migrates from the floor to lie on the couch next to him and Hank goes through three more bottles of beer before his bladder protests at the liquid sloshing inside of him and he calls it a night. He's got a job to do in the morning and two more lined up for the afternoon.

The grind continues.

The old lady comes back to pick up her car in the late afternoon, her hands shaking with arthritis as she gives him a foil-wrapped plastic container of sugar cookies. Hank tries not to grumble when she calls him a good boy and pinches his cheeks as if he were a little tyke and not a man in his mid 50s. Despite the indignity, he gives her a discount anyway and waves her off, watching as she drives away and is begrudgingly impressed by her skills even though she's practically one foot in the grave.

'What a gal,' he can't help but be amazed by how she handles the car, whistling as she disappears down the street.

He throws another dirty rag into the laundry basket, not quite filled up enough to run a full wash cycle yet, but his trash bin is brimming to the top from balled up pieces of paper, takeaway boxes that's starting to smell, and other bits of junk his customers have thrown into it.

As soon as he picks it up, three flies buzz out of it and he looks down to see little maggots worming inside a couple of the old food boxes and the sight makes him gag as he takes it outside and drop it next to the dumpster. He kills it with insect spray first, let's it go for 10 solid seconds, anything to stop the cycle of more flies around his garage. He opens the lid to the dumpster and is about to throw the whole thing in, bin and all, when he sees the android from yesterday inside of it.

He shouts in surprise, his heart jumping in adrenaline, and it's enough to awake the android, brown eyes wide open and arms instinctively raised defensively.

'What the fuck you doing in my bin?!' He yells at it as he glares at the android.

Its arms slowly lower, its LED flashing red and yellow, 'The rubbish container provided me a low probability of being found while I underwent some self-repairs.'

It sounded pitiful and Hank groans when he sees the even bigger mess on its clothes, the rips and tears and the blue blood still sluggishly coming out from its body and its head to drip down its face. The fact that its still stained with thirium tells him the leaks aren't closing up fast enough - he remembers enough on androids to know that thirium tends to evaporate without a trace within a handful of hours. He knows enough of android 101 to get at least that much and he's not heartless enough to leave it in the dumpster.

'Get the fuck out of there,' he tells it and waits for the android to slowly, painstakingly, step out of the bin with a stumble before he tosses in his maggot-filled trash. Something in the android creaks and pops and it reminds Hank of how his own body creaks and pops when he gets out of bed in the morning now, age slowly catching up to him.

The android is holding its right arm awkwardly and is leaning heavily on its left leg, obviously favoring it. New droplets of thirium appear on the ground as blue blood falls off the jawline to drip down.

'I apologize for disturbing your day. I believe I should be safe from the anti-android protestors for the time being,' it nods its head amicably before it turns and starts to limp away.

The sight is so pitiful that it makes him groan again.

'Stop.'

The android does and makes a slow turn to look over its shoulder to stare at him.

'You're getting hosed down before stepping into the garage, got it? I'm not letting you track shit all over the place.'

'There's no need--'

'Shut the fuck up; take it or leave it.'

The LED on their temple starts cycling between red and yellow and red again. Hank figures they must be running calculations or whatever, pros and cons, ups and down, risk versus reward. He's about to snap at it to make up its mind when the android fully turns around to face him.

'I would appreciate it. I can be gone in 8 hours when a majority of my self-repairs are taken care of.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever,' he grumbles as he goes inside the garage to drag out the hose. He fiddles with the settings until he gets to the one he wants and sprays down the android, watching as dirt and rubbish and thirium flow from its body down into the nearby storm drain. When he's satisfied it's as clean as its gonna get he switches the hose off and gestures for the android to follow him in. 'Don't touch anything,' he warns without a backwards glance as he closes up shop before going upstairs to get a couple of old towels he doesn't mind losing.

Sumo comes up to him eagerly and he rubs him down once quickly, 'I'll take you out for a walk later, okay, boy? Just got one more business to deal with. I'll be back in a bit,' he promises and goes back downstairs with the towels in hand and is surprised to see the android shivering where it stands in the middle of the garage, dripping a sizeable puddle at its feet lightly stained blue.

He remembers some androids have the capacity to emulate experiences between hot and cold temperatures, acting accordingly; panting and breathing hard when it gets too warm and shivering when it gets too cool, but he'd always thought it was something designed for kid androids, not adult ones. It's uncomfortable to look at and he can't help but snap at it again to switch it off, 'Cut it out with that fucking shivering,' he growls as he throws the towels at the android.

Even their fingers tremble and mouth quiver as it talks, 'I am c-currently experiencing too many errors and programs running alongside each other t-to allow me to disable it at this point in t-time. The s-shivering also serves as an advanced warning f-for when my systems reach c-critical levels.'

'Well, is it?'

The android pauses before it shakes its head with a slight jerk, 'Not yet.'

'Good.'

Hank goes back upstairs and puts the leash on Sumo to take him out for his walk. The dog lumbers his way down the stairs, bee-lining for the android and he has to pull the leash a bit hard to stop the saint bernard from getting closer.

'Don't touch any of the cars and don't touch any of my tools, got it?' He warns just before he leaves to take his dog out.

'G-got it,' it says through a shiver, holding the towels close and staying in the same spot.

He huffs as he locks up the garage and lets Sumo lead the way again, going a different direction, taking a different route. Sometimes he thinks his dog's the one taking him for a walk instead of the other way around, what with him leading all the damn time and not letting Hank decide where he actually wants to go. Their walks can go anywhere between a quarter of an hour to an hour depending on the dog's mood, never consistent and Hank would be more annoyed if he didn't love Sumo so much.

When they arrive back at the garage he sees the android sitting on one of the chairs meant for customers, an old bar stool with the seat cracked and stuck on the lowest setting, the mechanism inside of it broken. The android has one towel wrapped around its shoulder and the other covering its head, just a hint of the LED peeking through cycling yellow, still shivering a little bit. Parts of the towels are stained blue and Hank doesn't care enough to do anything else with it as he pulls Sumo upstairs with him and goes about his normal routine.

Hank eats his microwave dinner in front of the TV, fighting off his dog when Sumo tries to snatch a bite from him, and finishes the last two bottles of beer left in the fridge. He makes a mental note to buy more alcohol the next time he goes out, maybe splurge on some whiskey, too. He's still got a couple of cans left in the back of the fridge but it's shoved to the back of the fridge for a damn good reason. He skips over the news channel; they're stuck droning on and on about the same things he doesn't give a hoot about and watches a baseball replay.

He comes down to the garage the next morning expecting the android to be gone; it'd been over 8 hours, but he's surprised to see the android still there and, if possible, looking a hell of a lot worse than yesterday when he'd left it alone to go through its self-repairs. The towels are almost entirely stained blue and he thinks maybe it broke during the night or something.

'What the fuck,' he mutters, his voice bringing the android jerking out of whatever sleep cycle it'd been in and looks at him pathetically. It makes his skin crawl at the accuracy of their portrayal of human emotions.

'I'm sorry for still being here. I was more damaged than I thought and my low thirium reserves made repairs slower than normal,' it apologizes and slowly stands up, something creaking inside of it so loudly that it makes Hank wince. 'I have overstayed my welcome; I'll leave now.'

'How much thirium do you need?'

The android stops in the middle of carefully folding one of the towels and drags its eyes up to look at him. Its LED continues to cycle yellow for a moment before it speaks, 'There's no need; you've already done more than I could expect.'

'I'm not fucking doing it out of the goodness of my heart,' he snaps because he knows the android won't be able to make it far on its own like this, 'I just want you gone and if it means throwing some thirium your way then so be it.' 

He doesn't want the android to come back and become a bigger problem for him in the future. He wants to wash his hands of this and he never wants to see the android ever again. He can lose a few bucks to ensure that.

The LED cycles between red and yellow for a couple of seconds before the android slowly sits back down and holds the blue-stained towels closer to its body. 'One bag should suffice,' it says quietly, making itself look smaller.

The sight makes his insides twists as he turns away to go back upstairs to grab his phone with the cracked screen, wallet and keys. It's a quick drive, barely even five minutes, and an even quicker shopping time. He's in and out of the shop within minutes with a couple bags of blue blood and drives his way back to the garage, parking in his own personal space.

'How much more time do you need,' he demands as he hands over the blue blood to the android, knowing that throwing it when the android can barely stand would probably result in a headache he doesn't currently have the energy for.

'I can be gone in 1 hour.'

An hour for them to repair itself and get lost. Hank scoffs and mutters, 'Yeah, right,' under his breath as he goes about his morning. He catches himself periodically checking in on the android to make sure it hasn't dropped dead in the middle of his garage and then tells himself to quit it. 

Eventually, the next time Hank comes back around the chair is empty, the two bags are emptied and thrown into the bin and the towels are folded neatly on the seat. It's so unobtrusive that it makes something else churn and twist inside his gut.

He groans and tells himself to stop it with the bleeding heart; he shouldn't have anymore fucks to give, especially concerning androids.

Surprisingly, life goes back to normal. He'd thought the presence of the android would somehow upend his life in some irrevocable way. Maybe it will, or maybe it won't. That's just how life goes, sometimes. He works, he walks Sumo, he eats his shitty microwave dinners and drinks his really shitty beer, and watches some pretty shitty TV before he calls it a night and goes to bed and repeats the cycle he's come to know and find comfort in for the last few years of his life since his retirement from the DPD.

He changes a couple of tires on one car, replaces the struts in another and does a quick fix to a bumper even though it's really not in his job description to help out with those. He charges for menial labor and reminds the guy it's only a temporary fix until he saves up enough money to replace the front bumper. All in all, not a bad day. Until he remembers he's completely out of alcohol.

Sumo whines at him as he gets ready to head out. He's feeling lonely and not even his dog can keep it at bay.

'I'm just gonna go out for a couple of hours, quit your whining,' he scolds, giving Sumo a rough rub down before grabbing his wallet and keys, stuffing his pockets full.

Just because he deals with customers for most of the day doesn't mean it ticks off much of his social quota. He might be more of an introvert than an extrovert these days but he still craves the occasional human interaction, especially when it comes with the added benefit of alcohol.

Jimmy's bar is exactly as he remembers it, a touch dark and gritty. There's a game playing on the TV and a few patrons chatting with each other and drinking the end of their day away. There's a couple of familiar faces and they nod to one another in greeting but leave each other alone for the most part. He likes it here; he gets a bit of human interaction in without the obligation to give more than he wants to. He can just sit at the bar and soak in the presence of others without having to contribute too much as he watches the football game play out, his eyes growing more and more bleary as he consumes glass after glass of whiskey.

Eventually, he's had enough. 

'Thanks, Jimmy,' he slurs a bit as he pulls out his wallet and pays for his tab. He's absurdly pleased when the guy gives him a discount.

'Don't be a stranger,' he says with a playful wink and sends him off into the night. The slight breeze feels nice on his warm cheeks as he makes his way back home.

He's pleasantly buzzed in a way that beer can never do for him and thinks maybe he really will add a bottle of whiskey into his shopping cart the next time he goes out to get the groceries. He thinks he could do it now; it's pretty much on the way back home and he's considering the merits of stumbling home half-drunk with bags full of breakable items in his arms when he gets yanked into the alley a few blocks away from his garage and unceremoniously slammed into the dumpster.

'What the fuck!' He sobers quickly, the pleasant buzz souring into something like anger as he lashes out to the person nearest to him. His swings go wide; he's too drunk for this. 'The fuck you want!'

'Gonna teach you a lesson about defending those androids, old man,' one of them says as somebody punches him right in his lower back.

He yells out in pain; his back is gonna murder him, but he remembers enough of his police training to default into self-defense even if he's a bit too drunk on his feet to be able to do more than bring his arms up to protect himself.

His head clears enough that he recognizes the two men, the same ones that had been beating up on that android, the same ones that Sumo chased off. He doesn't have Sumo to help him this time and they really look like they wanna pummel him to the ground the same way they did to that android before he intervened.

Hank swears under his breath as he barely dodges one hit only to get two more knocked into him until he's crashing right into the bin again, sending his head spinning and his teeth rattling. He doesn't have his gun with him, but even if he did his aim would've sucked too much to help him any. He thinks he's gonna end up looking like one of those crime scenes he used to get assigned to back when he'd been a Lieutenant at the DPD - a victim mugged for all they're worth and then killed and then left to rot in a rubbish-filled alleyway like this one, or thrown into the dumpster to be taken out with the rest of the trash.

There's blood in his mouth and sweat pouring down his face. He tries to fight back but it's 2 versus 1 and he's drunk and he never stood a chance against them in the first place, not when they're young and not when they've got rage and hatred fueling their punches. He doesn't want to die and he's sorry that Sumo is gonna be left all on his own.

Someone yelps as he's trying to pull himself up from where he'd been kicked to the ground and he looks up to see the head of one of his assailants snap to the side with a well-aimed punch and go down hard. The other man is kicked in the crotch so viciously he actually lifts off the ground with a high-pitched whine and immediately crumples. It's over so fast and he's so caught off guard by the shift in power that all he can do is stare with his mouth gaping.

'What the fuck,' he says as he stares at the two unconscious men, the situation dealt with so swiftly that it makes his head spin. But he acknowledges that he could just as easily be concussed.

He looks up to the person approaching him and recognizes the android from before and he can't help the twist of confusion as he asks them incredulously, 'You can fight?'

The android pauses before coming too near, one hand reaching out in a peace offering that Hank sure as hell isn't gonna take. 'I am equipped to deal with unarmed combat and the handling of weapons.'

He scoffs and then grunts as he uses the wall for support and gets back up on his feet, pointedly ignoring the hand. 'Yeah? Well, if you always knew that why didn't you do that before?'

A brief look of panic and worry passes the android's face and Hank can't help the sneer at the mimicry. His whole body aches; he has no patience for anymore shit tonight.

'I didn't want to,' it says as it retracts the hand, 'The peace we have with humans is too tentative, I didn't want to be the reason we lost our foothold in getting recognition for ourselves.'

He harrumphs, leaning heavily on the wall and feeling his age really catch up with him with every breath he drags into his body. 'You suddenly changed your mind about peace, then?' He asks as he jerks his head to the two unconscious guys occupying the alleyway.

'No. I'm returning the favor, as you humans might say.'

Hank scoffs derisively, 'Yeah, then we'll call it even,' because as much as he'd hate to admit it, the android saved him from a bad situation so he's willing to let bygones be bygones. 

He tries to stand but his body aches and protests at every movement, his knees actually shaky and weak, his adrenaline all gone and evaporated from him. He catches sight of the android trying to come closer to help but one look from Hank is enough to stop them where they are. Even so, 1 foot away is still too close for comfort.

'My scans inform me that you have a 1.3 inch laceration in your hairline, a popped blood vessel in your right eye, a possible rib fracture based on the way you're holding your body and a sprained ankle.'

'Wow, I really couldn't have figured that out on my own at all,' he jeers sarcastically, although he's realizing now it's not sweat pouring down his face; it's blood. His whole chest feels like he got dropped kicked in a fighting ring like he watches happen on TV all the time. 'Goddamn, I'm getting too old for this,' he says through a wince and a hiss as he hunches his shoulders to ease the fire in his ribs but his back protests just as much. He sees the android make an aborted move as if it wants to step closer but knows better than to try.

'Would you like assistance?'

Hank lets out a careful breath through his nose as he says, 'No, now get the fuck outta here. I gotta call this in and I don't wanna deal with you being here, too. This is already a gigantic waste of my time.'

The android looks conflicted and it makes Hank something in him boil at the look on their face but it eventually looks away and leaves him alone in the alley with two unconscious goons.

He shakily takes out his phone from his pocket, notices the additional crack in the screen, and calls for the police, giving them all the relevant information to get here as soon as possible. One of them is starting to wake up by the time Chris rolls up with the red and blue lights flashing. It makes his eyes water.

'Damn, Hank! Aren't you the dark horse,' Chris grins as he handcuffs the guy who's slowly trying to crawl his way out of the alley. The sight alone would make him laugh if it wouldn't hurt his ribs so much.

'What the hell happened here?' Another familiar face comes from around the mouth of the alley.

He wants to shrug but can't even manage that. 'I got jumped,' he sighs as he uses the dumpster to take a bit of his weight off his sprained ankle. Every movement making him feel as if he's grinding it into powder.

Ben handcuffs the other guy who is still blissfully unconscious while Chris drags the offender to his car and helps him inside.

'No offense, Hank, but I seriously doubt you could've handled this yourself,' Ben says with a slight wrinkle on his nose that tells him he probably caught the whiff of alcohol pouring off of his clothes.

'Had some help, but they ran off,' he doesn't mention that it was an android that did it. He's not heartless enough to jeopardize all their hard work. He's seen the news; they've been nothing but peaceful so far but humans are humans and humans don't like any changes that don't immediately benefit them.

'Right,' Chris doesn't look particularly convinced but he also doesn't look like he's gonna argue about it as he and Ben haul the other unconscious man into the back seat of the other vehicle that the Detective arrived in. 'You wanna ride with me or Ben?' He asks as he closes the door after clipping in the seat belt on the offender.

Chris' car is closer so he starts hobbling his way over to the passenger side, using the wall for support and begrudgingly accepting the help to get him in. His ribs hurt when he pulls the seat belt across his chest.

'Hey, Ben. Do you mind checking on Sumo first before we go?' He asks as he very slowly and painstakingly pulls out his keys for the other to take. 'He should have enough food but I was going to refill his water bowl when I got back home from the bar.'

'Sure, Hank. I'll be right back,' he agrees as he takes the keys and disappears around the corner. It only takes a couple of minutes for Ben to return the keys and then they're driving off towards the station.

He hasn't set foot in it in years but it still looks the same as when he left it. Except his desk's been taken over by someone else, someone with a damn peace lily.

Hank sits in the interview room with an ice pack strapped to his sprained ankle and a first-aid kit, the bin next to him half-filled with wads of bloody cotton balls and waits, sipping on a paper cup of water while he knows the other two men are being questioned. He'd stopped eyeing the 2-way mirror once he was done dealing with the cut across his forehead, knowing he's being carefully observed in the next room. He doesn't know how much time passes but he feels exhausted and dead on his feet by the time the door opens up and Ben steps inside and sits in the chair across him.

'The two guys called you an android lover. They said you probably sent your android to beat them up in revenge.'

He snorts, and the movement makes him hiss in pain. 'Seriously? Wow, as if I have the kinda cash to splurge on an android. Not that I'd fucking want one in the first place.'

'Yeah, I know,' Ben agrees, 'Start from the top.'

He lets out a long sigh and knuckles down for what he knows will probably be a long night. 

In the end, it takes the better part of an hour and a half before he's allowed to go after giving his statement. He also finds out the two guys are being charged with assault and a hefty fine considering it's not their first offense. He's not surprised; they look like they beat people up on the regular if you so much as breathed on them wrong.

He's outside considering a taxi when he hears Ben come up behind him, 'Maybe I should take you to the hospital.'

'Pass,' he says gruffly. He'd been a cop long enough to recognize whether or not he needs a trip to the hospital. He's roughed up and sore but nothing's broken except maybe his pride, or whatever is left of it.

The other sighs, as if he'd already known. 'Lemme give you a ride home, then.'

That almost prompts a smile out of him except his entire face hurts, 'Appreciate it.'

He accidentally dozes off once during the car ride, is thankful that Ben doesn't try to make small talk and is bone-tired by the time they make it back to the garage. 

'You sure you don't wanna go to the hospital?' Ben asks again once they pull up outside.

'I'll be fine. Just need to sleep it off, take a break for the next couple of days,' as he climbs out with a pained groan.

'Alright,' he says although he sounds unsure. 'Hey, don't be a stranger. Jeff would've wanted to see you if he'd been around.'

He feels uncomfortable and decides not to make any promises as he waves him off. Ben gets the hint and doesn't drive off until Hank's inside the building and has closed the door behind him.

There are two cars in the vehicle bay waiting for his attention. They were supposed to be an easy fix, maybe a couple hours each max but he doubts he can get to them in the morning or even in the afternoon with the way he is. He doubts he'd be able to deal with them the day after, either.

'Fuck...' he swears and thinks of the calls he'll need to make in the morning, see if other mechanics nearby would be willing to take jobs off him. He's going to lose money over it but it's better than making people go without their cars when he'd told them he would've been done with it by the end of the next working day. His headache blooms at the thought of what he'll have to deal with in the morning and decides to stop his train of thought. 'Ah, fuck it. I'll deal with it tomorrow,' he says as he slowly makes his way over to the stairs leading up to his apartment.

He's barely two steps away when he hears someone knocking on the door and a familiar voice call out to him, 'Lieutenant Anderson? I have a proposition for you if you would be willing to hear me out.'

Hank frowns, doesn't even bother asking how the android even knew who he was. He's too tired and he just wants to sleep. 'Get lost! I got nothing to say and there's nothing I want from a fucking android!'

The android, predictably, ignores him, 'I understand you have jobs currently lined up for tomorrow but as you are unable to complete them I'm willing to step in and assist you in repayment.'

'No! I don't want a fucking android helping out in my shop and you don't owe me anything. Get lost!'

'I insist. My scans through the window inform me you only have two vehicles awaiting repairs. I can complete those jobs for you so that you don't lose money or be required to give a refund.'

It's not like he's hurting for money, not really. His retirement from the DPD gave him a decent stipend that so long as he's careful with it, he could go the rest of his life without needing to work for anything, but the thought of spending his entire morning on calls trying to sort out this mess feels like a migraine just waiting to happen and that's something he is more than happy to avoid.

He growls as he turns around, winces at the rapid movement but still goes ahead to unlock the door and yank it wide open, one finger raised to point at its face. 'Don't touch anything without my permission and don't do anything without my say so, got it?'

It agrees readily, 'Got it. When would you like me to arrive in the morning to assist you?'

'Just stay in the garage. I can't guarantee when I'm gonna wake up in the morning.' He knows he's going to feel like crap but what's new?

Going up the stairs was a trial and a half. By the time he reaches the top, he's a sweaty mess and he's breathing hard enough to look like he's run a marathon. Sumo is eager for his attention but he has to guiltily push him aside so he can clean up and go to bed, popping a couple of painkillers to ease the way.

Sleeping was hard-won but when he wakes up in the morning from his phone alarm he sees that he managed to get at least a small handful of hours from it. Maybe he can nap later, or just call it a very early night instead.

He's not sure what to expect when he goes back down the stairs into the garage but he's glad to see nothing's been touched or moved during the night. He finds the android sitting on the chair it'd used before and gestures to the first car in the vehicle bay. The faster they finish up, the faster he can tell the android to vamoose.

The car only really needs an oil change and two replacements tires. The oil change he can do in his sleep except his entire body aches something fierce and the tires require a lot more than he can physically give at this current time. He talks the android through both the oil change and the replacement tires, switching out the front tires to the back and changing the old ones for a newer pair. What would normally take him maybe 30 minutes to do, give or take, the android finishes in a fraction of it. He can see the perks of having an android work in the garage but he's not gonna change his mind about keeping one around. 

He makes the call to the lady who'd dropped it off and lets them know it's ready for pick-up. She tells him she'll be by during her lunch break and finishes the call.

'Hank?' A familiar voice calls out and he feels his heart jump in anxiety as he steps out of his office and surreptitiously looks around, feeling relieved when he doesn't see the android anywhere.

He doesn't breathe a sigh of relief as he walks towards the portly middle-aged man who's been his regular since practically the first month he set up shop. 'Hey, Luke--'

'Damn! What happened to you? Get into a fight at the bar or something?' 

He brings up a hand to his right eye, it's still a tiny bit swollen. He knows it's still bloodshot and kind of unsightly, but whatever. He shrugs and waves the subject away. 'Sorry, but I'm not taking up new jobs for a while. Had a pretty rough night.'

'Yeah, I can tell,' he finishes in a whistle, surveying the mess that is Hank Anderson. 'I only came in to see if you could give my car a service but I can see that's out of the question.'

He chuckles ruefully, 'Yeah, unfortunately. Why don't I give you a call next week? If you still want me to service your car for you, that is.'

'It can wait. You're practically the only guy within this godforsaken city that doesn't use androids to deal with everything. Have you seen the news? Pretty fucked up, right?'

'Yeah, I've seen the news,' he agrees and doesn't say anything else about it. 'Next week, alright?'

'Sure. You take care of yourself, Hank.'

He gives a subdued wave as Luke drives off. His whole body aches and he's starting to feel a headache bloom in his right temple where he'd gotten punched. He thinks he should knock back some more painkillers but all his meds are upstairs and he's not in the mood to go through the pain of walking up those damn stairs just for some pain relief even though he could use it right about now.

Footsteps come up behind him and he doesn't have to turn to know it's the android finally coming out of its hiding place. At least it's smart enough to stay out of sight of any of his customers.

'You don't like androids.'

'No shit, Sherlock,' maybe he should've gone up for those painkillers after all.

'May I ask why?'

'None of your fucking business. Get to work.'

The second vehicle belongs to the smart aleck guy who thought he could teach Hank about cars even though he's a certified mechanic. He'd recognized the car when it was driven in but not the guy who was behind the wheel who sheepishly said the squeaking was driving him crazy and could he take a look at it, please? He'd snorted and took the keys.

He pops the hood but even that strains his ribs something nasty. He would've almost dropped it back down if he weren't holding on out of sheer stubbornness. A quick glance doesn't tell him much except how full of shit the smart aleck was; the engine doesn't even look like it's been looked at since it was made, probably.

Hank starts up the car and immediately winces when the squealing echoes through his garage. He's about to talk through what the problem might be when he catches the android's LED cycling on yellow as it scans the engine block. He wants to fold his arms but knows his ribs won't forgive him for it.

He's expecting the android to start telling him what could be wrong with the car but he's surprised when it merely turns to him and asks, 'How would you like to proceed?'

The android probably knows what the problem is, he has no doubt of it; they're the most advanced piece of human ingenuity on this earth with the ability to immediately find out and learn whatever piece of data there is to know. Despite this, he can't help but be begrudgingly appreciative of the fact that it's more than willing to follow his lead, however slow that must be for an android that can process information at the speed of light.

He picks up a spray bottle filled with water and aims it at the belt. Immediately it stops squealing like a banshee and he side-eyes the android to see if it will jump in with possible solutions or try to troubleshoot the problem with all the knowledge it possesses. He's a little impressed when the android does neither.

'Could be three things; the tensioner, idler, alternator or power-steering.' Hank sees the android open its mouth but snap it shut immediately. The sight almost makes him laugh, except it would hurt too much to try. 'But the noise went away so it's not a bearing problem.'

He gestures to one of the rolling cabinets and tells the android to find the tool that looks like a crowbar, in the fourth drawer. He's forgotten what it's called, maybe something to do with a snake, and he has no doubt the android would know exactly the name of it but he's waiting to see if it'll jump in with the correct information.

Quietly, the android locates it and holds it out for him, keeping wisely silent on the matter and Hank is, once again, a bit impressed, however reluctant he is to admit it. In the end he gives up trying to test the android; the car is starting to squeak again and he really doesn't want to hear it come back full force. 

'You know what? It's not even that big of a deal. The guy was just talking out of his ass; it's an easy fix. Go ahead,' he says as he gestures to the car with his head. Something like this would only take him a few minutes to fix. It's not overly complicated but he sure as hell's gonna charge full price for it. Normally he would give a small discount to encourage returning customers but he doesn't want that guy to come back. Ever.

The android eyes him carefully, a furrow between its eyebrows as it continues to hold out the tool. 

Eventually, Hank sighs, 'Come on, I'm tired and I just wanna lie down, alright?'

While the android turns off the car engine and takes off the old belt, Hank goes through his storage to find a replacement and remembers that it's called a serpentine belt tool. He hands the new one over and accepts the worn belt in return, grimacing down at the cracks he can see on it.

'Guy is so full of shit,' he mutters to himself and then turns his attention back to the android. The new belt gets installed quickly, efficiently, and then it stands off to the side as if waiting for Hank to inspect his work. He shakes his head and gestures for it to start the car.

The engine rumbles to life and there's no squeal to accompany it. He's so ridiculously pleased he can't help the smile of his face as he closes the hood of the car, wincing only a little bit as he does so.

He makes the call as the android turns the car off and tells the guy it's ready for pick-up. They tell him they're just around the corner and will be there soon. He hopes the smart aleck doesn't make an appearance; he's in a pretty decent mood and he wants to keep it for as long as possible.

Hank closes up shop in the meantime, putting up a sign on the door saying that he's closed for the rest of the week due to personal reason, and goes about cleaning his tools, putting them away neatly.

With the last customer done and dealt with, he feels the last of his energy drain away as he starts making for the stairs, hoping the android will get the hint and leave.

He goes up one step and his body immediately chooses that time to remind him of every punch he'd received the night before. He winces and holds a hand to his lower back, feeling like an old man.

The android comes up behind him. He knows it's letting him hear its footsteps so he doesn't freak out. 'Would you like some assistance?'

'Fuck off,' he snaps, his good mood dissipating like fine mist. He grits his teeth and grabs the handrail a bit harder as he forces his body up the damn stairs. It's not even that many but it might as well be Mount Everest for how difficult it is. He's aware he's being watched as he's making his way up at a snail's pace but he's starting to feel faint as he nears the top and he has the presence of mind to be a little bit thankful that if he somehow ends up falling down the stairs, the android will probably be there to catch him.

Sumo barks from behind the door and he realizes his dog hasn't gone out for a walk yet. He swears under his breath and feels sorry for Sumo; he really doesn't deserve this mess of a man to call an owner.

He sighs and turns around to the android that's waiting at the bottom of the stairs, their LED cycling blue and yellow. He forces himself to unclench his jaw and relent, 'Actually, do you mind taking Sumo for a walk?'

'Not at all,' it says as it starts climbing the stairs. 

Hank grabs the leash from behind the door and clips it on, quietly apologizing to his dog with a rub on his head. 'Just let him take the lead; he knows his way around the neighborhood. He'll come back when he's ready to come back.'

'Understood,' it says as it accepts the leash.

They're about halfway down the stairs when Hank's heart lurches a little bit in anxiety at the gigantic target that is the jacket the android is wearing. 'Hold it!' He shouts as he quickly grabs a hoodie he'd left on the back of his couch and an old hat hanging off a hook that he hasn't bothered to wear in years. He throws both of them to the android. 'Put those on. Do not lose Sumo and do not get my dog killed, got it?'

'Got it,' the android agrees as it shrugs on the hoodie and slips the cap over its head, pulling the hood up to hide the telltale light of their LED. He breathes a sigh of relief when he can't see it anymore and watches them leave.

He takes some painkillers and cleans himself up while they're gone, feeling tense and anxious the entire time. His microwave meal tastes like crap and he has no alcohol in the apartment to wash it down with as he waits. He knows Sumo isn't exactly consistent with his walking schedules but now he kind of wishes it was as he sits at the kitchen table pushing his food around.

His pain meds is only starting to kick in when he hears Sumo return about 40 minutes later, bounding excitedly up the stairs. He slowly gets to his feet as the door opens and his dog comes in, making a beeline for the water bowl and lapping it up, sloshing some of it over the sides.

The android returns the leash to him which he hangs up behind the door and attempts to do the same with the hoodie and the hat but Hank stops it. 'Keep it, and stay out of trouble. We're square now, alright?'

The android looks reluctant but seems to know it can't change Hank's mind so it simply nods and keeps the clothing, rubbing its fingers along the hem. 'Thank you. I wish you a speedy recovery,' it says, meeting Hank's eyes briefly before looking away and then leaving.

It's not even sunset yet. The day is barely over, the city is still bustling, but he's exhausted and thinks he's earned himself at least 12 hours of sleep. He keeps the painkillers next to his bed along with a glass of water because he knows he's not gonna be able to drag himself out of bed for it in the middle of the night.

The next couple of days are spent migrating between the bed and the couch, alternating between watching the news and the sports channels, knocking back painkillers religiously every few hours and polishing off the last of his microwave meals. Through it all, the saint bernard spends it glued to his side, excited and happy and it makes Hank feel guilty that he doesn't devote more time to his dog so he tells himself he really doesn't need to work 5-day weeks and he can take Wednesdays off to give Sumo the attention he deserves.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve such a good dog but Sumo seems to intuitively understand that Hank's body isn't quite up to snuff and doesn't walk as fast as he normally would or pull on the leash when something interesting catches his attention. Hank's used to his walks ranging anywhere between 15 minutes to an hour but they always make it back home before his sprained ankle starts to really grind on the bone like a mortar and pestle.

Hank groans as he carefully limps his way up the stairs with Sumo leading the way, his dog stopping every once in a while to look behind at his slow human. He chuckles as his dog barks at him, probably telling him to hurry up if they could talk. He gives Sumo a fresh bowl of water which he laps up like crazy and ignores his kibble in favor of making himself comfortable on the couch. 

The fridge is pathetically empty with nothing but a bottle of ketchup, mayo and mustard on the shelves, a bit of butter, some milk that's gone a bit sour and a very wrinkled and rotten lemon. He doesn't even remember when he bought that lemon. The freezer is badly iced over, one microwave meal has fallen victim to it, and he thinks he really should just let the whole thing defrost so he can chip the ice away. He doesn't technically have better things to do, but dealing with the freezer is pretty much at the bottom of his list of things to do around the apartment. He is, however, completely out of food.

'Well, fuck, I knew I should've done the shopping yesterday,' he grumbles to himself as he closes the door to the freezer and starts looking around his kitchen for any emergency food he might have. He'll make do with dry cereal if it means not having to leave the apartment but all he finds is a can of green beans, a can of beetroot and a can of peaches shoved in the far corner of the pantry. He definitely doesn't know where those beans and beetroot came from.

He sighs as he closes the pantry door, his search for food coming up empty. There's a convenience store not even 8 minutes away he sometimes goes to that would probably do in a pinch, and right now he's in a definite pinch.

Sumo perks up when he heads back to the door again and gets up to follow him but Hank just gently pushes his head away and roughly pat at his sides. 'I'm just going out to grab some stuff. Be back in a jiffy, okay, boy?' He chuckles when his dog lets out a huff, looking disgruntled and lies down to settle himself right by the door.

It's drizzling a little bit when he's outside. He almost changes his mind and turns back around again but decides, well, a little water never hurt nobody, so he forges on with his hands in his pockets and a slightly uneven gait.

There isn't a whole lot of people out and about, most of Detroit still a little empty following the android revolution although a small amount of them are coming back now that President Warren is in the middle of talks about bills and new rights and whatever. It doesn't pertain to him in any way so he'd barely paid any attention to it except for what's important, and what's important is that Detroit isn't going to turn in a war zone and that's pretty much the only piece of good news he took away from it.

Despite the quiet and stillness of the neighborhood, he sees two guys running out of an alley with their hoods up a block away from him, looking like they're trying to flee. He stops where he is, his instincts telling him that continuing will lead to nothing good. He's still recovering from his last bad encounter and he doubts he'd be able to skip a hospital visit if he ends up in another confrontation but just because he's retired from the police doesn't mean he stops being a cop at heart. 

Slowly he makes his way towards the alley he saw those two guys run out of and he's not prepared to see a familiar shape and his old hoodie stained blue in places.

'What the fuck!' He hisses at the android curled up towards the dumpster, 'What did I say about staying out of trouble?!' He steps closer, angry beyond belief, but then the android turns to look at him and the sight of tears stop him dead in his tracks. Cradled in its arms is a child android, eyes open and blank, half their face broken open to expose the circuitry inside and thirium painted all across its face. 'Holy shit.'

It's not the same. It's not even remotely close to the same, but it makes him think of Cole and it makes him think of the copious amounts of blood that poured out of his tiny body, how his body slumped over in his car-seat completely unmoving and unnaturally still. Hank turns away and throws up what's in his stomach, gagging and leaning heavily against the brick wall for support. He chokes and has to shut his eyes against the burn of tears as he tries to breathe around the sick feeling in his gut. His whole body starts aching worse and he's sweating profusely as he brings a shaky hand to cover his mouth and nose against the smell of his own bile.

'Fuck,' he says weakly and tries to straighten back up but the motion makes him lightheaded and he has to stop, hunched over like a drunkard. 'What happened?' He finds himself asking anyway because he can't stop himself from wanting to know the truth.

'Humans,' the android spits out and the vehemence in their tone makes Hank finally turn around and see them properly.

The child android is gathered close to the other, their arms tight around their small body as if still trying to protect them from harm even though they're dead. Hank almost wants to throw up again but he's got nothing left to give.

'Humans happened,' the android repeats, their tears drying up to make way for anger and rage.

And Hank understands that all too well. 'Do you know what they look like? Did you see their faces?'

'Yes.'

'I'm gonna call this in,' he says shakily as he takes out his phone with trembling fingers, taking two tries to unlock his phone.

Chris is the one to appear and bring them to the station. He almost wants to ask why there aren't more officers on scene to take down details and evidence and such but then he remembers that crimes against androids don't get treated the same way as humans do; they're still considered property for the time being. Despite this, he appreciates the way Chris is handling the situation, calmly talking to the android and patiently leading them to the patrol car, shutting the door for them once they're inside. 

'You riding shotgun?' Chris asks as he opens the driver side door, eyes focused on Hank, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

He shakes himself out of his daze and resolutely doesn't turn to look at the spot next to the dumpster where he knows will be splashed with blue blood everywhere. He doesn't think he can manage to keep himself together and stay composed otherwise.

The ride to the station is utterly silent, and when they step inside the building the silence seems to build as every eye turns to look at them, or more specifically, at the android carrying a deactivated child android in their arms.

'You wanna tell me what happened?' Chris asks as he leads Hank into the break room while the android is taken into an interview room to have their statement taken. He knows they're being humored at the moment; the bill for android rights hasn't passed yet to see them as living beings.

His mouth tastes like vomit and he tries not to remember his past as he starts talking, 'I was on my way to the convenience store when I saw two guys gunning out of an alleyway about a block away from me. I didn't see their faces, no identifying features; they had their hoods up and it was dark.'

'What else?'

'Had a bad feeling,' he says around a shrug, 'Went to check it out and saw the android. Saw the blue blood and saw them holding onto the kid like...' he stops his train of thought there. He shakes his head, 'The kid was already dead by the time I arrived.'

'Hank, are you--'

'Fine,' he cuts them off. He doesn't want to talk about it. 'What's gonna happen to them now?'

Chris frowns and shakes his head, too. 'Honestly, I'm not sure. We don't really have any procedures set up for crimes done against androids, yet, but my best guess is that we'll probably take their statement and, if they're willing, the memory of the event, and go from there.'

He nods and figures that has to be good enough for now, at least until the bill passes or something.

They sit quietly in the break room with nothing but a low murmuring in the background for company. Eventually, Hank breaks the silence and looks over at Chris, 'You didn't use to care about androids.'

He shrugs as he leans back a little in his seat, 'The revolution changed my mind. I almost died, you know? But the leader, Markus? He saved my life and it made me see things differently.'

Hank hums, knows there's a lot more to the story than what Chris is giving him but he decides he doesn't need all the details of it as he slowly nods his head in mild agreement. After tonight, he's slowly starting to feel the same way.

They're both brought out of stillness when they hear a desperate voice nearby and Hank gets to his feet, ignoring his body's protests, and rounds the corner to see what's going on.

'No! You can't take him!'

'It's evidence! It's no different than if we took a dead body to have them autopsied, alright?' Robert says as he tries to grab the dead android from the other.

'Hey!' Hank yells as he starts making his way towards them. The android turns towards them, obviously distressed. 'What happened to your sensitivity training. Shit,' he swears as he carefully leads the android away, Chris following closely behind them.

The android is holding the child close to their body, still trying their best to shield them even though there's nothing else they can do for the kid; they're beyond any kind of plausible repairs.

'Look,' Hank starts off quietly, 'Robert is right; it's the same as cataloguing the injuries on a dead person in the coroner's office. Photos get taken, reports get made, all that jazz. You gotta let the police take the kid away so they can do their jobs, alright?'

The android doesn't say anything at first, their LED cycling through red, red, red before they speak very quietly, voice quivering and full of rage at the injustice faced by their kind. 'You and I both know that once those photos are taken, once those reports are made, they're just going to throw him into a recycling center as scrap. We're machines, therefore we don't get anything like a burial. Not the way humans do.'

Hank swallows the guilt and the apologies clogging in his throat, he can't deny the truth in his words.

'I won't let that happen,' Chris says as he steps a bit closer, close enough to be noticed but not enough to get inside their bubble. 'When his body gets released I'll let you know and you can come back to give him a proper resting place.'

Their LED continues to cycle red and Hank wants to lay a comforting hand on their shoulder but he knows it won't be appreciated, not when things can get so overwhelming and the slightest touch makes you feel like you want to burst out of your skin. He's been there and he can empathize but he's not one step closer to being able to console anybody.

'His name is Miles,' the android says quietly as he steps towards Chris and gently offers the child android to them. Chris raises his own arms and carefully accepts the kid as if he was a sleeping child being passed from one parent to another. 'Please,' he murmurs as he raises a blue-stained hand to the boy's head and strokes his hair.

Hank has to turn away; he can't watch, not when his own emotions are so close to spilling over.

'You have my word,' Chris says solemnly as he takes the kid away down to the basement. The android watches them go, his face twisted in misery until they're out of sight then suddenly his expression completely blanks out, the only evidence of his sorrow are the tears left behind.

'Come on, let's get outta here,' he suggests as he tries to lead the android out of the police station. People watch them as they leave but he pays them no mind as he calmly leads them both outside.

He's considering calling for a taxi when he hears footsteps coming up behind them and he turns around to see Chris coming back up to them.

'Lemme give you guys a ride back, anywhere you want,' he offers as he stand by them. 

'I'd appreciate it, thanks,' he smiles and turns to the android, his expression still utterly blank and unmoving. They look completely catatonic and the sight worries him. One look at Chris tells him he feels the same way so he shrugs. 'He's coming back with me.'

Chris nods and leads them to where the patrol cars are parked and he's thankful he's chosen to drive a different one so they won't be face with the blue-bloodstained seats.

The android goes where he's led and Hank decides to sit in the back with him even though he thinks maybe he'd want that space for himself, but he knows people deal with trauma in different ways so he decides the best thing to do is to quietly offer the presence of support without being overbearing. The ride back to his garage is quiet and he occasionally catches Chris' eyes in the rear-view mirror glancing at them, eyebrows furrowed in worry but all Hank can do is shake his head minutely at the non-reaction from the android.

When they're dropped off back at his place, he gives Chris his thanks again before gently herding the android inside the garage and up the stairs to his apartment. Sumo huffs at their arrival but thankfully doesn't pounce on them for attention, perhaps sensing the mood. Despite this, the saint bernard quietly follows after Hank as he goes into his bedroom to grab some spare clothes and pulls out a fresh towel from the linen closet to give to the android.

'You can borrow these for now. Bathroom's just down the hall. Make yourself at home,' he tells him as he goes back into his room to change into something more comfortable, throwing his sweat-stained clothes into the hamper then changing his mind and leaving them in a small pile outside the closed bathroom door to shove in for a wash later so he doesn't have to deal with the smell of vomit anymore.

He goes to feed Sumo and then remembers he never got around to getting any food for himself but knows he doesn't have the stomach for anything after tonight's ordeal. It won't be the first time he's gone without eating and he doubts it'll be the last.

By the time he's done with all that he sees the android standing in the space between the kitchen and the living room, his blood-stained clothes folded neatly in his hands and the towel draped around his shoulders. His tears have dried but his expression remains blank and Hank's not sure nor well-equipped with how to help a catatonic android possibly dealing with PTSD. He can barely help himself most days so decides to deal with one thing as a time, taking the clothes from him, picking up what he left on the floor and chucking them into the washing machine in the bathroom, throwing in a bit more detergent than normal just to make it extra clean.

'Sit down or something. Seeing you standing there is making me nervous.'

His LED is still blinking red and Hank knows enough about androids to know that red isn't a good sign. He finds that most things that turn red aren't usually a very good thing. Carefully, he leads him to the couch and waits for him to sit before sitting down himself. Sumo, not one to miss out, settles on his haunches between the two of them, his face tucked in the free couch space between their legs.

He sighs and winces as he lifts his sprained ankle up onto the coffee table. He should probably get an ice pack for that, or maybe hit up on some more painkillers, but he's too lazy to get up and grab them now that he's sitting down. His bruises feel like it's pulsing under his skin in time with his heartbeat.

He's still trying to figure out what to say and how to start a somewhat civil conversation when the android beats him to it.

'He was crying for his dad.'

And that somehow wrecks him even more than the beating he got from half a week ago and he's wishing he still had alcohol stuffed in his fridge or in his pantry somewhere but he's all out and he's far too sober for a conversation of this caliber.

'Miles was designed to closely simulate a real human child. They can emulate emotions like affection and love, joy and sadness. Pain and fear. He isn't programmed to behave as anything other than how a child would behave but they still beat him up anyway.'

Hank swallows the instant apology that wants to rise out of his throat. He knows they don't add up to much. He's heard it on and off for the last few years and it never changes anything and it never gets easier. He doesn't say sorry because it never amounts to anything worthwhile. Sorry doesn't mean shit when you're left with a gaping hole in your life you know you can never fill again.

'I couldn't do anything for him. I just held onto him and listened as he cried and cried and stopped.'

He turns away from the android and wishes he could stop thinking about Cole but Cole is suddenly all he can think about and he wants to throw up. He feels something churn inside of him just dying to get out and he has to fight down the reflex to curl up and heave. He feels cold and clammy, sweat beading along his forehead and under his pits; weak and bruised and battered like he'd just stepped out of a wrecked car and wishing he'd been the one to die instead.

He tells himself to stop; it wouldn't do to have two people falling apart on his couch.

'Miles, he--' Hank coughs, wishes his voice wasn't so shaky, 'He died being held by someone who cared enough to stay with him. He was able to feel a small bit of comfort before he passed.'

The android is silent for so long that Hank thinks they've reached the end of their conversation. He gets up from the couch, ready to offer him to stay the night if he wants it when the android talks, very quietly and with his voice filled with a barely controlled rage, 'Humans are disgusting.'

Hank thinks of his son, how he'd wished time and time again that things had gone differently that night before his life changed forever. 'Yeah, they are,' he says, feeling raw at the memory of his own losses. He sighs and feels exhaustion pull at his limbs as he makes his slow journey into the kitchen to make sure Sumo has enough water for the night. 'You need anything?'

'No.' 

There's a long enough pause that Hank figures that's that when he catches sight of the red LED in his peripherals, blinking like a warning.

'Why do you care?' The android asks after a while.

He shrugs, filling up a glass of water from the tap. He doesn't want to admit seeing the android holding onto that child had been like seeing into a mirror of his past, an echo of his own loss. It's been years but it feels like it'd been only yesterday that he'd lost Cole. It never gets easier to deal with, and for the third time that night he wishes he had alcohol to wash away all those thoughts.

'What's your name?' He asks as he looks over at the couch where tired brown eyes meet his bloodshot blue ones.

His LED continues to flash red, red, red before cycling into yellow as he answers very quietly, 'My name is Connor.'

The sight of his LED no longer on red makes Hank relax, the tension he hadn't even realized he'd held in his body dissipating away. He nods, 'You can call me Hank. You can bunk down on the couch, too, I'm sure Sumo wouldn't mind sharing.'

Sumo huffs at the mention of his name but otherwise doesn't move from where he sits as if he knows better than to crowd someone who might not yet be open to it.

Hank takes two more painkillers before sliding into bed, feeling as if his whole body is sinking into the mattress, he's so exhausted.

It's morning between one blink and the next and he groans at the weak light coming in through the blinds. He fucking hates everything. He's hungry, and he's tired, and the ache in his body is still as unforgiving as ever as he climbs out of bed at the sound of Sumo scratching at his bedroom door.

His phone tells him it's already noon and he curses as he ambles his way to the door, opening it up and apologizing to his dog with rubs and pats. 'Sorry, boy. Guess I was a lot more tired than I thought I was,' he says as he makes his way into the kitchen but Sumo's bowls have already been filled with kibble and water.

The couch is empty when he looks over at it, and a quick look in the bathroom reveals his clothes dried and folded by the sink but Connor's clothes aren't part of the pile. The hoodie and hat are gone, though, so he's gonna take it as a sign that the android is gonna try and lay low for the time being.

He scratches a hand through his hair as he goes back into the living room and finds the borrowed clothes and towel folded neatly on the coffee table along with a handwritten note on top that looks a bit too much like something that came out of a printer. He picks it up and scans it, mumbling quietly to himself as he reads, 'Sumo has been walked, given water and the appropriate amount of food according to his age and weight class. Thank you for your hospitality. Connor.' He snorts when he finishes but he sincerely hopes that Connor will be okay and not do anything stupid.

His stomach growls loudly and he figures it's high-time he went out to get actual food so he gets changed and takes his car out to the supermarket making a mental list that he knows he's probably gonna half-forget by the time he arrives.

It takes him three trips up and down the stairs to bring all his groceries into the apartment and by the time he puts the last bags down his ankle is starting to throb a little again. He figures he's really not doing himself any favors by not letting it fucking rest but needs-must and food and alcohol is a must.

Sumo follows after him eagerly as he puts away the frozen food, shoving them into the freezer as much as he can despite the icing problem, milk, butter and alcohol in the fridge, cereals, canned food and every snack that took his fancy into the pantry. When it's all done and dusted he figures he's got enough to last him well into next week without having to leave the apartment again unless it's to walk his dog.

He sighs as he settles on the couch with a bowl of cereal, switching on the TV and patting down Sumo's fur as his dog gets up on the couch and lies next to him, keeping him warm and comfortable and probably waiting for some scraps to fall down his way. He catches a debate happening about how androids shouldn't be considered alive and tunes in for a hot minute.

'It's just errors in the programming. A 1 instead of a 0 or a 0 instead of a 1. It's simple coding errors that needs to be debugged and analyzed. Easy as that.'

Hank snorts as he switches over to another channel. He doubts the way Connor behaved last night was just an error in his programming. He doubts the anguish in his face and in his voice was just simple emulation of the human emotion. It was real, and he felt his pain; it mimicked the grief he still feels in his heart to this day.

He spends the day channel surfing and eating cereal because he's too lazy to bother with anything else. His sprained ankle doesn't hurt quite as bad by the time the early evening rolls around and he figures it'll be okay for a quick walk with Sumo before he turns in again for another early night.

There isn't a curfew around anymore but the streets are still ridiculously empty despite the fact that, just three weeks ago, they would've passed at least four people for every block they traversed together and Sumo would've sniffed every single one of them before moving on. He wonders if maybe the saint bernard misses being around other people even if it's only usually during his walks.

He thinks Sumo takes pity on him after 20 minutes into the walk, leading him around the block to make their way back to the apartment. 

'Good dog,' he praises his dog once they're just four blocks away from home but he immediately takes it back when Sumo starts barking and pulling hard at the leash, going right into the street. He swears and is thankful there aren't any cars on the road as they cross to the other side. 'What's gotten into you?!' He yells a little bit as the saint bernard continues to bark at something that Hank can't figure out until he hears a scream of pain and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

His heart jumps in his chest and he roughly pulls Sumo back to his side as he hurries to the source, hoping it's not what he thinks it is, not again, not again, cursing his old and battered body.

The both of them reach the mouth of the alley and he sees two guys on the ground and Connor looming over them with a broken 2 by 4 piece of wood in his hand.

'Shit!' He swears and his voice catches the attention of one of the men on the ground, blood running down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead.

'Help! It's gone crazy! It's trying to kill us!'

'You didn't care when you killed Miles!' Connor shouts as he slams the wood into the ground next to their head, making them yelp out in fright as the wood splinters apart. 'He begged you! _Begged_ you! But you kept hitting him and kicking him when he was already down!'

His LED is such a bright red that Hank fears for him and his grip tightens on Sumo's collar as his dog's barks continue to echo around them. He thought he saw Connor's rage last night but Hank knows now what he saw was just a precursor to the real thing.

'That _thing_!' The man spits out, his anger temporarily winning over his fear as he drags his body closer to Hank as if he think that would somehow help him, 'Shouldn't have ever been made in the first place!'

Hank wants them to shut up. He doesn't foresee this encounter ending well.

'He was a _child_!' Connor screams, his voice turning into static for the briefest of moments as it broke in distress, 'He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you but you hurt him anyway!'

'It's not even alive!'

Hank sees the moment he shuts down, his expression going horribly blank and horribly still. 'Not anymore,' Connor says quietly as he steps closer and looms over the man's shaking body, the splintered wood hanging off his grip.

In one swift movement he slams the wood into the side of the guy's head and they fall still.

'Connor!' He shouts and hastily ties Sumo to a nearby pole and hopes to God that his dog doesn't try to fight out of it. Carefully he tries to approach the android, mindful and wary of the makeshift weapon still in his hands. He eyes the two men on the ground and is thankful they're still breathing at least but Connor's LED is so, so red and he knows from his last few stints as a Lieutenant before he retired at the DPD this can only go one of very few ways. 'Connor, please drop the weapon,' he says as calmly as possible, his hands raised as he approaches inch by inch.

He's relieved when the android lets go of it, letting it clatter onto the ground and Hank dares to take another step closer, one little shuffle at a time, scared of spooking him. Connor's staring unblinkingly at the unconscious men on the ground, his LED burning bright at his temple, unnaturally still until he swivels his entire body towards the wall and starts bashing his head in, a bloom of blue blood painting the brick.

'Connor, no!' Hank panics and tackles him to the ground as he's rearing up for another smash, listening as Sumo barks and howls behind them. His body aches something fierce as he fights against the android but he's a middle-aged man still recovering from a bad one-sided fight and Connor overpowers him easily to slam his head head into the ground a second time, cracking the plastic further and bleeding everywhere. 'Stop it! Stop it!' He yells as he wraps his arms around his head, cushioning him from delivering a third blow. 'You don't get to fucking die when others would do anything to stay alive!'

He bites back a scream when Connor throws a well-aimed punch into his ribs, kicking his legs out and struggling hard under Hank's weight. Pain wracks through his body but he takes it all as he holds on tighter, hoping that he can stop Connor's self-destruction protocol long enough to bring some sense back into him.

Hank can feel new bruises forming under his skin, he can feel it down in his bones, as Connor continues to try and escape his hold and destroy himself. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up; he knows they must be making a damn ruckus, especially with the saint bernard still howling up a storm behind him.

'Miles wouldn't want this!' He yells and feels the android jerk heavily under him at the name.

'Miles is dead!' He shouts, his voice cracking halfway with static.

'Yeah, but you're not! You have to live for Miles now, alright? Just like...' he chokes and holds on tighter as he feels another punch to his lower back and a hard knee to his thigh that makes him squeeze his eyes shut at the new pain cropping up all over his body and the old misery that's been festering inside of him for the last few years. 'You have to live for Miles just like how I have to live for Cole.'

'Why do you _care_?!'

' _Because_!'

He doesn't want to say that looking at Connor is like looking at himself. Like watching a speeding train that's about to go off the rails and you can't tear your eyes away from the incoming disaster. The desperation of wanting to die so you can stop feeling, stop that agony of being the one left behind, the grief and the guilt of being the one that survived that horrific night.

Hank doesn't realize he's crying until he's gasping for air, feeling his ribs protesting at every breath. Connor's stopped fighting and is utterly still beneath him, his hands grabbing hold of his jacket tightly, pulling him closer.

He doesn't know how long they lie on the dirty ground for. Long enough for Sumo to quiet down to little concerned huffs and whines, his paws pacing where he's tied up at the mouth of the alley.

'If I let you go,' Hank says roughly, his throat feeling raw, 'If I let you go are you gonna keep self-destructing?'

There's a quiet pause for several long seconds before Connor speaks just as equally quiet, 'No.'

'Good,' Hank accepts as he gently lets go and gingerly gets up onto his knees, feeling every fiber of his being disapprove of his attempts at moving. With a groan, he manages to stand up on his own power.

Connor looks like shit; his forehead is bashed in, the skin deactivated around it and thirium still lightly flowing out of the wound. Hank doesn't really know how android physiology works but by the looks of it he figures the plastic will probably need repairing or replacing. There's blue blood splattered and smudged all over his face and Hank has no doubt he's got a lot of it on his clothes, too.

He sighs, feeling tired and exhausted beyond belief as he holds a hand out. 'Come on, we gotta get outta here.'

The android stares at his hand with a slow blink before he takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. Hank grunts and feels his muscles pulling painfully with the movement.

'What about the humans?' Connor asks as they step past them and Hank starts untying Sumo's leash, patting his dog down when he whimpers at the sight of them.

'Fuck 'em,' he says as he starts limping away and then stops, changing his mind and turning back to the android. 'They're not dead, right?' He asks even though he knows they're not.

'Not from mild head injuries and two broken bones.'

He hums, surprised that Connor went easy on them, or maybe they're just chicken-shit.

'I exerted enough pressure to hurt, not to kill,' the android tells him and lets himself to dragged by Hank as they make their way back to his apartment. Hank thinks that if anybody saw them right now they'll probably look like the world's most pitiful sight.

Sumo stays right next to him as he painstakingly puts one foot in front of the other, his knees shaking and weak from that ordeal.

'Fuck, I'm getting old,' he groans as he takes his keys out of his pockets and tries to unlock the door with trembling fingers. He drops them and he feels his eyes sting at the pain growing in his body, at the headache that's getting more and more fierce, thumping the side of his head in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Sumo whines next to him and leans carefully onto his leg. It would make him smile if he wasn't feeling so miserable.

Connor gently picks up his keys from the ground and opens the door for him, helping him inside and then up the stairs. The android helps unhooks Sumo's leash and hang it on the hook behind the door while Hank limps his way into his bedroom, Sumo trailing after him like he used to as a puppy.

He brings Connor a new set of clothes and another clean towel before he goes to deal with the monumental task of changing out of his own thirium-stained clothes. By the time he's in comfortable pants and a loose shirt, he's covered again in sweat and wants this whole night to be over. Next to him, Sumo whines and bumps his nose into his knee.

'We'll be alright, Sumo,' he says softly as he shuffles out of the room, making sure to grab the painkillers on the way out. The bed looks inviting but he forces himself to pass it so he can go into the now unoccupied bathroom, seeing Connor's clothes already in the washing machine and the detergent compartment filled the appropriate amount.

Sumo's bowl is filled again when he passes the kitchen and it takes a small bit of cajoling to get him to drink his water because he knows he must be thirsty after the night he's had. He grabs himself a glass of water as well as he throws back a couple of painkillers.

Connor is holding the edge of the towel to his forehead, the fibers stained blue from the thirium still leaking out of it, his eyes staring blankly ahead. The skin around the wound is still deactivated, the white jagged pieces of plastic painted in blue from what he couldn't wipe away. Hank sighs as he sits heavily down next to him, settling himself onto the cushions, tilting his head onto the backrest and wants so very badly to fall asleep.

The remote control to the TV is on the coffee table and he's too sore to reach out and grab for it so he can fill the silence with the drone coming from whatever channel he last left it on.

His body throbs with every breath he takes and he feels Sumo's warm breath ghosting the back of his fingers before he feels the dog's head settling on his knee, huffing gently.

'Good dog,' he smiles as he lifts a hand to the saint bernard's head and rubs gently, letting the motion lull him quietly into a light doze, just waiting for the painkillers to work their magic on him.

'I wanted to kill them,' he hears Connor say, his voice hushed almost like he doesn't want his words to be acknowledged.

Hank lifts his head up to bring his attention over to the android, at his dead-eyed stare, the bright red of his LED and the tight fist gripping onto the edge of the blue-stained towel held up to his forehead. Connor's quiet for so long that Hank's not sure if he should try and prompt for him to continue so he can talk it out or just leave it. He's nearing his limit of emotional breakdowns for the year and he knows one more stumble is all he needs to fall off the wagon into another horrible pit of depression.

'I wanted them to experience the pain and fear Miles experienced.'

He grimaces and relates all too well to that sentiment. 'I know. But it won't bring him back. It won't change anything.'

'It changed everything for me,' Connor whispers, misery radiating off him as fresh tears pour down his face as his LED remains red, red, red.

Hank sighs tiredly as he turns to stare their reflection on the TV, and he can't help himself when he brings his arm up and pulls Connor closer to him, wincing at the movement but not caring at the new wave of pain that cascades over his body.

The android is stiff at first, coiled tight where he sits but he eventually loosens his posture and accepts the closeness. Hank thinks that it's a miracle considering that Connor's probably received nothing but beatings since the day the androids started their revolution.

Unknowingly he starts rubbing his arm up and down the android's bicep, hoping that it'll calm him and bring his LED down from red to yellow.

They're quiet for a bit before Connor asks him, 'Why do you care? I thought you hate androids.'

He squeezes his hand around the other's bicep once and grits his teeth together, trying to put his messy feelings that he's suppressed for the last few years into words, into something resembling halfway coherent not just for the android to understand but for himself as well. It's simultaneously a lot and very little to unpack and in the end it's easy for him to have his emotions boil down to this one simple truth; 'No...it's not hate.'

'What is it?'

Hank feels Connor's stare boring into the side of his head, not accusing but not friendly either.

He swallows down his pride, what little he has left of it as he comes to the root of his problems. 'Envy.'

'Envy?' He repeats, surprise and disbelief evident in his tone as he pulls away a little bit more to stare at him.

Hank can't meet his eyes, and he can't help his shrug as he reveals the truth behind his animosity towards their first meeting. 'Androids don't feel. They don't feel fear, they don't feel pain, they don't feel sadness, they don't feel like killing themselves because it's too hard to stick around in this godforsaken place. They don't know what it means to be alive, to struggle with surviving when you should've been the one to die.'

'...Yes, we do,' Connor tells him quietly, pulling away a bit more.

'Yeah, I can see that now,' he sighs and drops his hand from his shoulder and lays it on the back of the couch instead, not one to force his company onto others but he hopes Connor stays long enough to hear him out, to understand the truth he's lived with for the last few years.

'You said...' Connor starts to say but quickly stops himself. Hank looks over to see his LED finally cycling on yellow and out of the danger zone. 'You said I have to live for Miles, like how you have to live for Cole,' he pauses again, looking as if he's weighing the words he want to say, trying to be careful, and Hank wonders how he ever thought they couldn't feel. 'Who is Cole?'

He feels the familiar well of misery open up inside of him, churning away and threatening to swallow him whole. He fights for his next words, fights tooth and nail to bring himself to speak because Connor deserves to know. He's seen him at his absolute worst, seen how close he'd been to destroying himself over the guilt of being the sole survivor of a tragedy.

'My son,' he whispers, voice trembling, and feels his eyes stinging at the words he's not spoken out loud since his boy was taken from him. 'He died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate on him. Like you said before, humans are disgusting and I didn't want to be lumped in with them.' He squeezes his eyes shut, feels droplets travel down his cheeks to soak into his beard. He feels nauseous but he forces himself to keep going, to bare himself the way that Connor did. 'I hated androids because they were something I wanted to be. I wanted to stop...feeling so much. I didn't want to be alive anymore.'

Connor doesn't say anything else, just carefully leans back into Hank's side and he can't help feeling grateful that he's not alone to face these demons he's done his damnedest to keep at bay with nothing but sheer will and copious amounts of alcohol for a shield.

They sit on the couch for a long time until Connor's head isn't bleeding anymore but the plastic is still cracked and broken and Hank can actually see the inside of his head. It would be gross if he wasn't so tired.

'...I don't know what to do,' Connor says quietly.

Hank snorts as he pats his shoulder in commiseration, 'Me neither, kid. Welcome to the club.'

'What do we do now?'

He shrugs, 'We sleep, or recharge or whatever it is you do in your down time. And tomorrow we sort out whatever you need to repair yourself and go from there.

Connor doesn't say anything for a while but eventually nods and says, 'Okay.'

Hank thinks they're both one gigantic mess, but hey, misery loves company.

**Author's Note:**

> ...That was harder to write than I thought...
> 
> If you guys liked this story, feel free to check out the other Detroit: Become Human fics I've written! Many thanks for your time! See y'all next time!


End file.
